


When It Comes Down To It

by dodger_sister



Category: Supernatural, The 4400
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - The 4400 Fusion, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodger_sister/pseuds/dodger_sister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy is too close to that giant freaking ball of light hovering over the northern part of Washington State and way too far away from John for any father’s peace of mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Comes Down To It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [13chapters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/13chapters/gifts).



> Written in 2010.  
> I was dreaming that I was writing this fic and then I woke up and wrote it. I shit you not.

John was sharpening his knife, and when the scene from Washington State came on the TV, he let the cool metal slip from his hands. There wasn’t much light in the room, just the bit peeking out from the crack of the bathroom door and the flickering from the TV, but it was enough for him to work on his weapon while he watched the television on mute.

He was in his white t-shirt and boxers, the Tennessee heat unbearable, especially with the crappy nearly non-existent air conditioner at the dive they were staying in that particular night. Honestly, it didn’t seem to be bothering his boy at all. Dean was in the far bed, face down, arms above his head, legs splayed in every direction, little corner of drool on his mouth. John didn’t have to be able to see Dean to know that last bit was true. He knew his eldest son as well as he knew himself.

John had always thought he’d known his youngest boy too, but he guessed he’d been wrong about that. Though, if he let himself admit it, he knew the problem was that he _did_ know Sam. All too well.

Didn’t stop him from worrying and currently freaking the hell out.

Whatever that was on his TV screen, that giant ball of light, it was getting closer and bigger and…

It was too close to Sam, that was all. And yeah, Seattle and Stanford weren’t exactly within jogging distance of each other, but it was a giant freaking ball of light from the sky. John didn’t think it needed to _jog_ anywhere to get the job done.

 _This_ was why he hadn’t wanted Sam to go to college. Okay, not _this_ exactly, but being so far away that John couldn’t protect him. Logically, John knew he probably couldn’t protect Sam from whatever this was anyway, but logic and his love for his boys didn’t go well together. If Sam had stayed with the family, the way John had wanted him to, the way John had _told_ him to, Sam would be there in Tennessee right now and not out on the west coast with that giant ball of light. Or if John had stayed in California, kept a better eye on Sam, then at least they’d all be together when whatever this was finally came down to the wire.

The newscaster on the screen was telling them how beautiful and remarkable it was.

All John could think was that Sammy was going to die alone.

He fumbled for his dropped knife and then his jeans. He’d be damned if he wasn’t at least going to try to get to his boy before the world ended. John was halfway into the denim, yanking it up the right leg, when he jerked hard and nearly fell over.

The sound of his phone ringing. 

He grasped around, feeling for his pockets and pulling out the cell.

“What?” John barked into the receiver, and then thought of his little boy and said quieter, “Sammy? Is that you, son?”

“I highly doubt it,” the voice on the other end replied.

Goddammit. He loved Bobby, he really did, but it should be Sam on the other end of the phone, not Bobby freaking Singer. Why wasn’t Sam’s first thought when he saw the giant ball of world ending light on the TV, to call his father? Yeah, they hadn’t had the best relationship over the years, but he was still Sam’s _father_ , dammit. And Sam was still his son. And if nothing else, there was Dean. He hadn’t been the ass who’d thrown Sam out of the house. Didn’t he deserve to know his baby brother was okay?

John looked over at Dean, still sound asleep, snuffling softly into his pillow, unaware the world was coming apart at the seams, with Sam all the way in California. It occurred to John, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, that Sam was probably passed out just like that, face in the pillow, his butt up in the air like he was still five years old. That was logical, that Sam wasn’t calling to reassure him because he didn’t even know anything was going on. But John didn’t want logical. He wanted his baby boy.

“John?”

Oh, right. “Bobby, no offense but not really who I was hoping for.”

“Why would I be offended by that? Just because you’re a jackass.”

John sighed. “Sorry. I can’t really talk right now.”

“Got your pants halfway up your legs?”

“Excuse me?”

“Rushing off to California? Think your boy needs you now?”

“My boys,” and John emphasized the ‘s’ on the end, “always need me.”

“What are you going to do from Tennessee, John? Hell, what could you do even if you were in California?”

John gritted his teeth, tried to keep his voice low and calm. “Be with my boys until the end.”

“Awww, that’s sweet. Completely asinine, but sweet.”

“What do you want, Bobby?”

“I want you to take a breath and think about this. Now sit down.”

“Fine,” John said, but didn’t sit.

“John, do you think I’m an idjit? I said _sit down_.” Bobby waited until he was sure John had obeyed and then went on. “Do you think there is anyone more prepared to handle whatever this is than Sam? Do you think that boy can’t take care of himself for one second? He doesn’t need his daddy to save him, John. You’ve been saving him his whole damn life.”

“He’s my son.”

“Damn straight he is. That means he’s a Winchester. _John Winchester’s boy_. And he knows exactly what to do.”

“How can he?” and John’s voice rose enough that Dean stirred and flopped a hand in his sleep. “How can he, Bobby? We don’t know what this is. It’s a giant freaking ball of freaking light, dude. And it’s a hell of a lot closer to Sam than I am. I shouldn’t have left California. I shouldn’t have left _him_.”

“What were you going to do, John? Stalk your son for four years of college? Campus security might have a problem with that.”

“I’m hanging up on you now,” and John thought he was being courteous that he at least told the man first before he actually did it.

“He won’t be there when you get there,” Bobby said and John put the phone back to his ear.

“What?”

“He won’t be there, John. You spent a lot of time drilling it in to Sam and Dean how to survive, how to take care of themselves, how to be prepared for anything and everything. But you ain’t the only one who drilled those boys.”

“What does that mean? I’m their goddamn father.”

“And I’m their Uncle Bobby, so don’t be an asshole. All I ever asked of them was that they repeat my mantra. It was a simple one,” and Bobby stopped, waited to see if John would ask.

“What’d you teach my boys, Bobby?”

“Easy. _When the shit hits the fan, you come to Uncle Bobby’s_. Seriously, John, your boys are smart enough to know there ain’t no better place to ride out the Apocalypse than right here. I have pie. Granted, it’s not very good, but it’s still pie nonetheless.”

“Are you shittin’ me?”

“Do I ever?”

“You think, what? Sam is going to show up on your doorstep?”

“And bring that pretty little blonde you said he’s always carting around. ‘Cause if this ain’t the shit hitting the fan, I don’t know what is. And unlike some Winchesters I know, Sam ain’t no idjit. I made him repeat that mantra a hell of a lot.”

“So, I’m just to suppose to do, what?”

“Put your pants on, pack your bags, drag Dean’s scrawny little ass out of bed and get here. Right quick too, before people start waking up to the giant freaking ball of light and panic sets in. I’ll make lasagna or something.”

John laughed, a choked sound scrapping his throat. “It’s the end of the world, Bobby. You want to make lasagna?”

“It’s always the end of the world, son. Don’t mean we can’t have lasagna,” and after a pause, “Can’t stand to listen to Dean whine and bitch about how hungry he is all the damn time anyway.”

John nodded, then realized Bobby couldn’t see him through the phone. The TV newscaster was waving her hands around wildly.

John swallowed, rough and dry. “Bobby? Do you…do you think he’ll come? I mean, to your place, if he knows…knows that I’ll be there?”

“Course he will. I’m not the jackass that threw him out just ’cause he wanted to go to college, am I?” and then, “Besides, John, it’s the end of the world. If ever there was time for forgiveness, it’d be now. Understand me?”

John nodded again. He guessed maybe it didn’t matter if Bobby could see him or not. The man always knew what John was doing anyway.

“We’ll be there in a few hours.”

This time it was Bobby who laughed. “Contrary to popular belief, my place ain’t two hours from everywhere.”

“It is the way I drive.”

“Just get here.”

John reached for the light, flinched when the room was drenched in it. “You know, it could be nothing. It could blow over.”

“And then next week a whole new apocalypse will be upon us.”

“You’re just filled with hope and promise, aren’t you?” but John was already pulling his jeans the rest of the way up and gathering his things.

“Got to have the faith, son. Got to have the faith.”

And as he hung up, John thought maybe he did. Have faith.

Now he just had to get Dean awake and coherent enough to understand that there was a giant freaking ball of light hovering somewhere over the northern part of Washington State.

No problem there.

 

The End


End file.
